The dead sometimes live and I sometimes die.
I feel a feeling with a tear in my eye.
My mom who left me leaves me empty inside.
My mom tought me strength, will, and pride.
My mom was here for me and then she died.
If everything was cool I would be better inside.
Though inspired by her I will, feel bad. I will always miss the mother I had


*Serously cries* The moral of this poem is if there was anything important to you, don't neglect it. It may not be there when you have free time.